


Your Heart(s) Will Guide You Home

by PrinceofDespair



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guardian Angels, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceofDespair/pseuds/PrinceofDespair
Summary: “Who are you?” he asks. “If I'm dying, I'm assuming you've come to—”“I'm your Guardian,” it tells him. “My name is Emile. I've come to take you home.”Home? But he was already...“What is that phrase you humans use?” it asks in its cheery, whimsical voice. “Hmm...oh! Home is where your heart is! So, where is your heart, dear Roman?”





	Your Heart(s) Will Guide You Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Major character deaths, bullying mention, violence, grieving, talk of suicide, cancer mention, allusions to torture (no descriptions whatsoever), mild body horror, swearing.
> 
> _(This story’s theme focuses on death and the afterlife. **Please heed the content warnings before you decide to read this fic.** I’ll have plenty of other fics you can read that won’t be this dark, so feel free to skip this one if you don’t think you can handle it. Take care of yourselves, my dears.)_
> 
> **A/N:** Hi, guys! I’m back, and I brought angst for a change!
> 
> The idea for this story was originally planned as a sequel to a prinxiety fic I've yet to write, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it would be a much better story all on it's own. This story is _reeeeeally_ long, I hope you guys are cool with that. The first half is all from Emile’s perspective, while the second half is from Roman’s.
> 
> I've got to be honest, guys, I’m _terrified_ of posting this fic. I worked really hard on it, and I honestly think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written but...it’s different. I haven’t shared anything like this with you before. I really hope you end up liking it as much as I do.  <3

_32:02_

_32:01_

_32:00_

_31:59..._

Aside from the faintest of _tings_ that counted down each second as it came and went, the office was silent. One would think that he should be used to it by now. After all, it had been over forty years since that heavy silence had draped itself over their shared office; since his flamboyant, mouthy, too compassionate for their own good companion was dragged away, leaving the office dim and far too empty.

And yet, Emile still sat at his desk, thoroughly unsettled by that dismal silence.

Emile sighs and leans back in his chair, once again giving the thick file that lay open on his desk a side glance. To a human's eyes, the contents of the file appeared to be hundreds, or perhaps even thousands, of impossibly thin, rectangular sheets of pure golden light. To a divine being like Emile however, it simply looked liked a very long and difficult assignment that was finally coming to an end.

_29:16_

_29:15_

_29:14..._

The countdown timer that continued to ting at him glowed brightly on the front page of the file. It wouldn't be long now.

It was strange, the feelings that were buzzing inside of him at the moment. He did this all the time, guide a soul back to the _inbetween_ , yet this time felt...different. He was anxious for once, or perhaps maybe this was excitement? Emotions weren't a foreign thing to his kind but they definitely came along rarely, and even then they were never that strong. Not at all like how a human can feel, where their emotions could be so overwhelming they can, and often do, significantly impact their lives.

Though...losing Remy had filled him with an immense sadness that, while it had faded considerably, never really went away. Emile supposed it never would.

On his desk also sat a clear tray with three other files, closed and stacked neatly on top of one another. Each of them was a different size, but the one thing they had in common was that they were all considerably thinner than the one that was currently open and pulsing brightly for his attention.

_25:32_

_25:31_

_25:30..._

Emile straightens himself up in his chair and then shuffles through the files to pick out the one at the bottom, the thinnest of the three. He hadn't looked through these in quite a long time, at least thirty years or so, but Emile had still memorized practically every line that was contained inside; he had read them over and over again with Remy. They weren't supposed to play favorites with their humans, but these cases were just so interesting...and tragic. Not every human had a soulmate after all, it was a rare occurrence. Even rarer still was when a human actually _found_ their soulmate in the vastness that was their world.

But those four souls, whose entire lives were written down in great detail within these files, were a part of something incredible. Not only do each of them have not one, but _three_ soulmates, the four of them had managed to find one another against nearly impossible odds.

Emile and Remy had been blessed (or perhaps, seeing as how things turned out, it had been a curse) with being assigned to these humans. Two each.

Emile lets the file go and it drifts into the air to float steadily in front of him. He flicks his finger and the folder opens to reveal the first page.

_**Virgil E. Cullen:** Born on December 19, 1992. Died on March 12, 2018; 26 years old. Cause of death was exsanguination, as the result of an act of violence._

_Guardian assigned: Remington; Mission was fulfilled._

Remy had their hands full with this one from the very start. Poor, lonely, Virgil Cullen. He had been treated as an outcast by many of his kind. He was too quiet, the humans would say. Too gloomy, too creepy, too weak, too jumpy, too skinny, too pale. _A freak._

Virgil's anxiety and depression went unnoticed by his parents. They were always far too busy to give their strange, practically muted child any mind at all. Their neglect forced him to fend for himself. When the inevitable would happen, and Virgil would come home with a split lip and black eyes...his parents would do nothing but shake their heads and sigh.

But for every painfully sharp word that was hurled at him, for all the stinging scrapes and bruises he received...there was always the faintest of whispers in the back of Virgil's mind, telling him, _“Keep going, kid. You're going to be amazing, you just have to keep going. You're not alone. Don't give up.”_

When Virgil was eighteen he went off to college, where he met the other three; his soulmates, though of course he wouldn't know that right from the start. It wasn't love at first sight...but there was a spark. A small spark that slowly but surely began to grow into a blazing flame between the four of them. None of them had the courage that early on to admit that something was there. No, it would take another two years before someone would finally make the first move (and flipping through the file, Emile sees that someone was in fact, Patton).

But even with Remy's guidance, and despite the new friendship that had formed between the three young men, when Virgil was nineteen his file changed from _“cause of death will be natural; old age,”_ to _“cause of death will be suicide.”_

Emile thinks back to how frantic Remy had been when they saw that change. He had never seen them so upset before, and the two had watched over many, many souls throughout the hundreds of years they had been partnered together. There wasn't much a Guardian could do with the power they had, besides try to urge their assigned mortals in the right directions from afar. In the end, the choices were solely up to the humans. No divine being such as Emile or Remy, could interfere with their decisions.

That is...it was _definitely_ against the rules to try and interfere with a humans fate.

When Remy's words hadn't been enough _(“Don't do this! You have so much potential you can't do this! Please, hang on!”)_ , the celestial being had flown down to the human realm to pay Virgil a direct visit; an act that was _completely_ against the rules they were sworn to follow. Guardians were invisible to all mortals, aside from the dead and the dying, so Virgil couldn't see who or what knocked his cellphone off his counter to clatter onto the bathroom floor. He couldn't understand how the hell a picture of himself and his three best friends had been pulled up on the screen, when he knew for a fact he had just turned his phone off. He couldn't begin to know how the razor blade that he had set down on the side of the tub _so carefully_ as he had got up to grab his phone, had slid off and slipped right down the drain.

After sliding down to the floor in racking sobs, Virgil had sent out a group text to the only three people he knew would be more than willing to listen.

_“I need help. I'm so fucking stupid please I need help. I need to talk to you guys please. I'm scared. I need you.”_

With that, Virgil's cause of death had changed back to natural causes; seventy-six years from that present.

Emile still didn't know if the stunt Remy managed to pull off was due to some incredible skill on their part (as he was vastly more powerful than Remy and therefore _should_ have caught them) or just simply dumb luck. Either way, they got away with it as their influence was subtle enough that it wasn't seen as anything out of the ordinary; the nameless entities that led the Guardians never took any notice.

But Remy's luck wouldn't last forever.

Emile continued to flip through the rest of the file, his pale pink eyes quickly scanning through every word; a detailed description of this young man's life. Every choice he made, or could have made. Every feeling he ever felt. Every heartbreak he faced and every act of love he gave and received and so on and so on. As Emile's eyes land on the last page, he lets out a deep, tired sigh.

This unfortunate family, they've been through so much. Emile's kind wasn't meant to judge how fate saw fit to change a life but...he couldn't help himself. Virgil Cullen did not deserve the cruelty he had received.

The change of his fate was sudden, as it usually was. Once again, Remy had gone into a panic and had vowed right then and there that they would _never_ allow that to happen. Virgil and the others were going to be something. They were going to go out into the world and create and spread happiness and grow old together. Fate would not take that away from them. Remy had sworn all of this to themselves and to Emile, in that little office they shared.

Emile had never told them about Patton. That even if Virgil survived this, Patton's fate had been fixed from the start.

As Remy had tried to leave and enter the human realm once again, Emile had done something he knew they would never forgive him for. He had restrained them.

Remy had kicked and screamed, as the hazel eye near the top of their right wing, the eye tasked to watch over Virgil, frantically spun around in its socket.

_“Let me go, damn it!”_ Remy had shouted, thrashing their head from side to side wildly. _“Emile let me go, I'll kill you! I swear I will, let me go!!!”_

_“No you won't, I know you don't mean that,”_ Emile had said, trying his best to speak calmly and not show how much this was hurting him too. He was much older than Remy, much more powerful. It wasn't difficult to hold them down.

_“You-you don't understand! He can't die! He can't! He's not ready!”_

_“That's...that's not for us to decide, Remy. I'm so sorry.”_

Remy had started to run out of steam. Their wings still shook violently, their muscles flexed and spasmed, their body continued to twist around...but Emile could hear it in their words. Remy knew Virgil's fate had already been sealed, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

When the inevitable happened, when that angry, hateful human ran his knife into Virgil's stomach seven times, even after Virgil had agreed to give him his wallet. When Roman had found him far too late, and cradled Virgil in his arms while he screamed for help that he knew would never make it in time. When that hazel eye had dimmed on Remy's wing and began to glow a solid white...Remy crumpled to the floor and wept in Emile's arms.

_“It's not fair!”_ they gasped. _“I just saved him, **it's not fair!** ”_

Emile had stroked their hair and whispered, _“I know, love. I know.”_

A soul couldn't last for very long in the unknown, they needed their Guardian to guide them as soon as possible or they would be lost. Remy had found Virgil in time, and the first thing they said, as they gathered him into their arms, was, _“I'm so sorry, Virgil. I tried. I really tried.”_

Virgil, as broken as he was, forgave them.

After the departed's soul is collected by their assigned Guardian, they are then granted a final choice.

Start life all over again, in a new body and perhaps even in a new time altogether; be sent to the nothingness, where their soul will eventually grow so numb, it will cease to exist entirely; wander the comfort of the _beyond_ , where their current form could live in peace for the rest of eternity.

Souls had time to process this choice, but not for long. They couldn't stay in the _inbetween_ with their Guardians, they had to pass on in one way or another. Though, Virgil hadn't been thrilled with this rule, and Emile wasn't surprised by his reasoning.

What if his partners all make different choices? What if he's alone forever? What if _one of them_ ends up alone, or worse?

Emile had listened in on all of his concerns as Virgil stood on the other side of Remy's desk, smacking his hands down on the wood and practically growling in frustration when Remy told him again and again, that they couldn't possibly know what choices the others would make. This was his choice, and his alone.

In the end, Virgil chose to wander the _beyond_. Nothingness was terrifying, and despite his short life, he couldn't imagine anything being better than the time he had spent with his boyfriends.

Though it wasn't against the rules, it was certainly frowned upon by the other Guardians to visit their old humans, but that didn't stop Remy. They would visit Virgil in the _beyond_ when they had time (and they so rarely did, as being a Guardian was a demanding job) and would return to tell Emile all about how he was doing. Virgil was lonely, and struggling to accept that he may never know what would become of his partners...but he wasn't entirely miserable. He had found an old, abandoned house out in the middle of some woods. Virgil had told Remy, years and years ago, that it felt like the house was calling to him; like it was made for him, for _them_ , his family. There was an endless amount of world he could explore, but Virgil had decided to wait in that house, until the end of time if he had to. Maybe someday, the others would find him there.

Sometimes, when Remy would visit that cozy house, they would whisper secrets to Virgil about the world of the living. How Roman's career in theater was taking off, how Patton and Logan had finally opened up that coffee shop they always wanted, how they missed him so much it physically hurt and how their life together was so much darker without him around to brighten up their days.

This was also against the rules...but Emile couldn't bear to turn Remy in or make any attempt to stop them. That meant they would both be punished if the entities above them ever found out, but Emile was prepared to take that if he had to. Virgil deserved some comfort, after the horrors that fate had dealt him.

Emile plucks the file from the air and places it back in the tray. He took the next file, the second from the top, and set it to float in place where Virgil's had just been. As he swiped his hand through the air to open it, he glances at the countdown once again.

_14:01_

_14:00_

_13:59_

_13:58..._

He ruffles his large wings and the resulting breeze causes some of the multicolored eyes that were scattered throughout his feathers to squint. They quickly go back to their business, slowly rolling around in their sockets as they helped Emile watch over his souls. One of them, a pale, ice blue, blinks slower than the rest and Emile pretends not to notice it, focusing on the file in front of him instead.

_**Patton M. Foster:** Born on January 15, 1989. Died on May 3, 2041; 52 years old. Cause of death was gastric adenocarcinoma._

_Guardian assigned: Emile; Mission was fulfilled._

Emile smiles a little as he goes over the file. Patton had one of the kindest, purest souls he ever had the pleasure of guiding. Unlike the others, his death had not changed since his file had suddenly appeared on Emile's desk all those years ago. That didn't make it any easier for him when the time finally came to collect Patton's soul.

Patton had been diagnosed with late staged stomach cancer only a few weeks after his fiftieth birthday. After several rough months of treatment attempts, he was given four months to live...but Patton was a fighter. He fought so hard, he ended up living for just over _two years_ with this disease, until his body finally wore itself out. Emile had stood in the hospital room as Logan and Roman sat at Patton's side, whispering that he wasn't alone and that they loved him so, so much, gently kissing his face and cradling his hands to their chests.

Patton had hesitated when Emile offered out his hand after he had taken his final breath, because he couldn't tear his eyes away from his partners. Logan staring at his lifeless form in a numb silence, while Roman wailed and clung to Logan's side. It was then that Emile made his own choice and broke yet another rule. Remy had certainly rubbed off on him.

_“Virgil is waiting for you,”_ he had said. And that was all it took to get Patton to follow.

Emile had essentially told him what Virgil's choice had been, as there couldn't have been any other options for them to meet again besides passing over to the _beyond_. Influencing a soul's final choice, no matter how slight, was a serious crime, and it was a miracle that Emile hadn't been punished for it. It could be that the nameless entities that powered over them had decided to be lenient with him, since he had been such a dutiful Guardian for so long. Or perhaps they simply weren't looking his way at the time.

Or...they were planning on punishing him at a later date, a fate that seemed much more likely. Emile watched over many souls after all, they would need to find a replacement for each one and that was no easy task. Regardless, he didn't regret letting that little secret slip to Patton. Watching the reunion between the two soulmates was well worth it.

Emile remembered it well. Virgil had been lying on the roof of the three story house, as a light sprinkle of rain fell down upon him. The moment he saw the two of them approach, he jumped off the roof (and Emile had been amused when Patton flinched, despite Virgil having no harm come to him as a result of this stunt) and then sprinted towards Patton. Emile stood back as the two of them embraced for the first time in twenty-three years.

_“Patton! Patton, baby, I missed you so much, but...you shouldn't be here yet! This is fucked up, why are you—”_

_“Shh, it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that...is that nothing can ever take you away from me again. Nothing can hurt us now.”_

Patton had assured Virgil then that someday, but hopefully not anytime soon, they would see Logan and Roman again too. He had turned to Emile and smiled, silently asking for confirmation. Emile gave him a nod in return.

There was no guarantee that he could actually make Patton's hopes a reality, as he was only allowed to do so much and he really didn't want to push his luck with breaking anymore rules. Though, Emile had still promised himself then that he would at least try.

_“Why didn't you tell me?!”_ Remy had furiously demanded, after all was said and done. _“Why didn't you tell me about Patton?!”_

They were still such a young Guardian, they still felt too much. Emile didn't know if he loved that about them, or pitied them for it. Perhaps a bit of both.

_“Because I knew you would try to stop it,”_ he responded as calmly as he could, though he was sure his sadness still slipped through his words.

Remy wouldn't speak to him again for several weeks after that.

_9:08_

_9:07_

_9:06..._

Emile closes the file and sets it back in the tray. Then he picks up the remaining file and turns it to the first page.

_**Logan F. Sanders:** Born on November 3, 1988. Died on July 10, 2041; 53 years old. Cause of death was cardiac arrest, as the result of untreated stress cardiomyopathy. _

_Guardian assigned: Emile; Mission was fulfilled._

As upsetting as it was, Emile wasn't the least bit surprised when Logan's death date changed from the year 2084 to 2041, the same year as Patton's. Logan's soul was originally so strong and stable, but it had weakened considerably after Virgil died and even more so after Patton. He grew quieter, slowly started to eat less and rarely did more than work or sleep. Roman did all he could to keep him going but, in the end, Logan's heart just couldn't take it.

One evening, he kissed Roman goodnight, told him that he loved him, and then went to bed and never woke up.

Emile had one heck of a time dealing with Logan in the _inbetween_. For one thing, he asked _so many questions_. Arguably more than any other human Emile had been assigned to.

Where exactly were they? A different dimension? Heaven? Another planet? Who were these higher entities that Emile spoke of? Were they extraterrestrial? Angels? Gods? What was a human's purpose? What was _his_ purpose?

Emile couldn't answer most of these questions, at least not in the way Logan had wanted him to, because some of them didn't have answers at all. This was just how things happened to be, and that was that. Logan wasn't satisfied with that, and he was getting increasingly more frustrated the longer the two of them (three, if Emile included Remy, who had been watching this whole exchange with amusement, despite themselves) talked.

When Logan was finally presented with the three choices, there was a terrifying moment when Emile thought he would chose the nothingness simply to prove to himself that all of this was some kind of elaborate trick. 

_“Why the hell should I trust you?”_ Logan had asked, arms crossed, sitting tall and proud on the other side of the desk. _“You've supposedly been watching over Patton and I since our birth, and yet you did nothing to save us? You did nothing to save **him?** You're telling me that you knew from the moment he was born, that Patton would spend the last two years of his life bedridden and suffering, and you did **nothing?!** I'm supposed to just accept that all of the pain my partners went through was because of-because of something as bullshit as **fate?!** ”_

Emile didn't have the slightest idea of how to respond to that, but it didn't matter, as Remy had spoken up for him from across the room.

_“You have every right not to trust us, okay? I get it, not having all the answers sucks. But what would we get out of lying to you?”_

_“I-I couldn't possibly know. But that doesn't mean—”_

_“Look here, honey. Virgil's been waiting for a long time to see you all again, and I'm sure Patton misses you too. So are you gonna throw your soul away because you're afraid—_

_“I am not afraid! I'm just—”_

_“—or are you gonna make the right choice and march your ass out of here and go to them, where you belong? **They've missed you,** dumbass. Stop keeping them waiting.”_

Emile and Logan had stared back at Remy; Logan, as the realization dawned on him that this creature was actually telling the truth, and Emile in utter shock that they would say something so foolish. The entities they followed _had_ to have known, there was just no possible way that Remy's actions would go unnoticed anymore. There would be consequences.

_“But...what about Roman?”_ Patton had asked, after Emile had lead Logan to his two waiting partners. After the two of them had raced towards Logan and knocked him down to cover him in kisses. After they had both relentlessly scolded him for not taking care of himself.

The look of guilt on Logan's face was heartbreaking as he said, _“I'm sorry. I am so sorry, my dearests. I didn't want to leave him but...I just couldn't do it anymore. With the two of you gone I just couldn't—”_

Patton had pulled him into his lap and stroked his hair, as Logan buried his face into his neck and silently wept. _“It's alright, Lo. Shh...it'll be okay. I'm sure Roman will...Roman will be just fine. He's so strong and brave and...and...”_

Patton had trailed off and looked up at Emile, his eyes begging him for reassurance once again. This time, Emile couldn't bring himself to give it to him.

After placing a kiss on the top of Logan's head, Virgil had stood up and marched over to Emile. _“I don't want to see him here for a long time, you got that?”_ he hissed, raising his head high to meet the eyes of the towering Guardian before him. _“ Tell Remy they better keep their promise.”_

Emile had hurried back to the _inbetween_ after that exchange, to finally confront his partner for their multitude of dangerous actions.

_“Do you have any idea what you've done?”_ Emile had snapped, past the point of trying to calmly talk about this. _“And what's this about a promise you made? Remy...”_ he sighed, exasperated, as Remy leaned against his desk with their arms crossed. They looked down the hall towards the gate to the human realm as they waited for Emile to finish his lecture, their expression infuriatingly hard to read.

Guardians, and other beings from their world, were not supposed to feel emotions this strongly. But Remy and these damned four soulmates brought forth something powerful, something _new_ , from deep within Emile's heart and he still wasn't sure if he wanted to welcome it or shove it down.

_“Remy, they're going to find out. It's only a matter of time before they punish you for it.”_

Emile reached out and turned Remy's face towards him. His partner gave him a half smile and it only further made Emile's heart ache.

_“Last night,”_ they calmly told him, _“Roman Prince's death date changed. It's tomorrow, Emile. He's going to kill himself.”_

This shouldn't be a surprise. This shouldn't _hurt_ to hear...but Emile could still feel his heart breaking. These poor, lovesick fools. Throwing this gift they've been given away so easily. Like it wasn't a miracle that they were even brought into that world at all. He looked down at the bottom of Remy's left wing, where Roman's pale blue eye sat on the edge of their feathers. It looked so tired as it slowly rolled around this way and that.

_“I...oh. Remy, I'm so sorry,”_ Emile whispered, but to his surprise Remy had only shrugged.

_“It's okay, cause I'm not gonna let that happen.”_

_“W-what? Remy, there's only so much your influence can do!”_ Emile said, his hands moving down to grip their shoulders tight, trying to ground himself over anything else. _“Roman...he's lost so much. I don't think you can change his mind.”_

Remy sighed. _“You're right, I can't. I've already tried.”_

_“Remy, you didn't...”_

_“I did. But look, I meant what I said. I'm not letting him die tomorrow.”_ Remy had reached up to stroke the side of Emile's face, as they grinned widely and excitedly said, _“Roman Prince is going to keep living. He's going to go out and continue to be amazing until his soul has reached its limit, years and years from now. I want him to have a full, long life, Emile. And...I'll do whatever I've got to do to make that happen.”_

_“...I don't know what you're planning,”_ Emile whispered, pressing his own hand against Remy's to hold them there, _“but they're going to punish you! You can't possibly get away with...whatever this is!”_

Remy sighed again and shook their head, but Emile just went on. _“Listen to me, I...I love them too. You know I do. But—”_

_“There's something extra special about those four, right?”_ Remy said, smiling lovingly up at him.

Emile swallowed down the lump in his throat and said, _“...it's not our place to say whether a human lives or dies. They made those rules for us to follow for a reason.”_

Remy rolled their eyes and clicked their tongue. _“Yeah well...management sucks, and they're not always right.”_

_“Remington!”_

With that, Remy suddenly pulled Emile's face close to their own, and kissed him full on the mouth. Emile gasped into it...but then he quickly gave in, wrapping his arms around Remy's waist and kissing them back with the power of hundreds of years worth of love and adoration.

When the two of them had finally pulled apart, Remy said, _“They won't kill me, honey. They're not that cruel. Don't worry about me.”_

_“Don't worry? Remy, they're still going to—”_

_“Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm in for. But...it's worth it.”_

_“Is it?”_

Remy had smiled and draped their arms around Emile's neck, saying, _“I told Virgil that I was Roman's Guardian too, and he made me swear that I would keep him safe. He said, 'don't let him do anything stupid, Rem.' I've gotta keep my promise. I owe it to Virgil. I owe it to all of them.”_

Emile had known for a long time, that Remy's stubbornness and sympathetic nature would get them into trouble someday, but...he could have never imagined it would be something like this. He could easily hold Remy back again, keep them here until Roman's time inevitably ran out tomorrow. That was what they, the nameless leaders, would want him to do.

Instead, Emile had leaned down to press one last kiss to Remy's lips and then whispered, _“I'll miss you.”_

Grinning triumphantly, Remy let his arms fall from Emile's neck as Emile, though hesitating for a moment, let go of their waist.

_“Take care of Roman for me after I'm gone,”_ they said, and then to Emile's surprise, they turned down the opposite hallway that lead to the beyond. _“I don't think they're gonna let me come back here after I do this; they'll be waiting for me at the gate. So...this is goodbye, for now.”_

Emile didn't dare ask what Remy was up to, a part of him already knew and that terrified him. As Remy walked down the dark hallway, they had looked behind them and called out, _“I'll see you again someday, Emile! I promise!”_

Emile couldn't bear to answer them back. He only lifted up his hand in a weak wave.

With a two finger salute and a, _“Ciao!”_ Remy was gone.

“Someday” never came. Forty-eight years had gone by and Emile still hadn't seen or heard from Remy. Considering the severity of their crimes, Emile was starting to doubt he ever would again.

_2:11_

_2:10_

_2:09..._

On the night that Roman had planned to commit suicide, Remy had broken the number one rule the Guardians had been sworn to follow. They brought a soul that had already passed over, back into the human world to visit the living. Remy had said they couldn't change Roman's mind...but Virgil certainly could.

Emile knew the deed had been done when Roman's ice blue eye suddenly appeared on his wing, in the same place that it had once been set on Remy's.

Virgil had told him years later, when Emile had finally found the courage to ask what happened that night, that Remy had taken him back through the gate and lead him straight to Roman, who had been staring down onto the busy street below him from the ledge he was planning to jump off of. It took some time, but eventually Virgil was able to convince him that, yes, this was really happening and yes, he would kick Roman's ass if he actually went through with it.

Roman had been so hard to take care of, but he continued to carry on and done as Virgil asked; he kept living. He would go on to become an award winning Broadway actor, star in several movies and even write a couple of bestselling books; one of which was about the life of his three partners. He wanted to make sure that their stories would live on, long after he had passed. There had been a couple of close calls, when that endless void of sorrow and loneliness almost swallowed Roman up, but Emile urged him to keep going, as he promised he would. And now...

Emile set down Logan's file and finally picked up the one that was still flashing at him on his desk.

_**Roman T. Prince:** Born on June 4, 1991. Death scheduled for July 2, 2089; 98 years old, 1 minute and 07 seconds from now. Cause of death will be natural; old age._

_Guardian assigned: Remington; Mission was a FAILURE, reassignment was required. Current Guardian assigned: Emile; Mission is in pending status._

If anyone deserved peace, it was Roman Prince.

Emile smiles and sets the file back down on his desk. He raises his arms up, while simultaneously spreading out his wings, letting out a groan as he stretched. He would have to go soon, Roman's time was just about up and Emile knew quite a few souls who had been patiently waiting for him for a very long time.

_0:59_

_0:58_

_0:57..._

Emile stands up from his desk and then briskly walks down the left hall, towards the towering gate to the human world. As he stopped to stand in front of it, one by one the eyes that were scattered among his feathers close until only Roman's remained. The eye goes wide and lights up a bright blue. Just then, the gates swing outward and open for him to reveal a foggy white nothingness on the other side, or so it would seem. In that supposed nothingness was actually countless paths that led towards every living human's fates. Roman's eye quickly starts to scan the fog until it finally freezes off to the right. Emile looks in its direction and sees the faintest hint of a path start to glow before him; the path that led to Roman Prince.

What was it that they would say again? Right before putting on one of those stage productions of make-believe?

“Ah, now I remember! It's showtime!”

* * *

With a heavy sigh, Roman slowly lets his eyes blink open. He's greeted to the same dark burgundy walls adorned with framed theatrical posters of his many performances, paintings that he bought simply because he could and less because he actually liked them...and old photos, that he was somewhat thankful his eyes had become too blurry in his old age to make out anymore. The memories that came with looking at them were too painful for his tired heart to handle.

He blinks, and the room gets a little darker. Or...does it? He was still _awfully_ tired this morning, so perhaps it was just his imagination.

With a grunt, Roman shifts and settles deeper into his bed. His bed that was far too large for just one, frail old man...but he took comfort in it all the same. Sometimes, on nights when the loneliness he constantly felt each and everyday was hitting him harder than usual, he could swear he felt a presence or three in that extra space.

Outside his door, he hears his caretaker hustling around in the kitchen, no doubt getting ready to drag him out of bed. Ah, Georgette. She really was so sweet, but she fussed over him like he was...well, like he was ninety-eight years old and needed constant assistance. He may be old, and needed just _a little bit_ of help once in a while, but he could still take care of himself just fine!

Roman snorts and closes his eyes again. Well to hell with that, he didn't want to get up yet. His bones ached and his limbs felt heavy and he was so, so _tired_. Nope, not today. Today he was sleeping in, and Georgette could kiss his ass if she didn't like it.

He takes a breath in and back out. It's shorter than the one he took before it, but he doesn't notice.

Logan—

_(My dearest, Logan. How could you leave me behind? What more could I have done to make you stay?)_

—would always get after Roman in college when he would sleep in so late, he would end up missing his first class. The two of them would bicker all the way to second period, where Patton—

_(Oh, sweetness. You were so good, Pat. You were so, so good. I wish I could have taken your place, you didn't deserve to die like that.)_

—was always waiting for them with two fresh coffees and a bright smile that could shut them both up in an instant. Then at the end of the day, the three of them would hurry over to pick Virgil—

_(God, my beautiful, wonderful, Virgil. I'm so sorry. I should have never left you alone that night.)_

—up from work and their little group would spend the rest of the day together. Locked up in one of their dorm rooms until Roman could finally convince them all to go out and have some fun.

Goodness, did Georgette leave the A.C. on again? It was so _cold!_ Even under all these blankets Roman was absolutely freezing!

Roman opens his eyes again, but it takes far more effort than it should. The room around him was even darker than before, but wasn't it morning? What was going on...

He could barely bring himself to even lift his arm, his vision was getting darker and darker, Georgette's cheerful humming was fading farther away by the second...

Oh.

He was dying.

“That's right,” says a strange, musical voice from right beside his head. “You're dying, Roman Prince.”

Roman uses some of his last bit of strength to turn his head to the side, where standing before him was...an angel? Or something else entirely? _Something_ , that wasn't there a few seconds ago, was now standing at the side of his bed and looking down at him with a warm smile. Though everything else in the room was starting to blend together in a mix of darkening colors, the creature before him was clear as day. Roman could make out every last, terrifyingly beautiful detail.

For some reason, Roman found that he wasn't afraid of this strange being; with its shimmering pale skin, milky pink eyes, magenta hair, and large golden wings that were currently tucked against its back. If Roman squinted, he could see that its feathers were shifting in an odd, unnatural looking way, as if some small animal was hiding underneath them.

The creature leans down and brushes Roman's wiry, white hair out of his eyes and whispers, “You are an amazingly strong soul, you know that don't you? I hope you do. So brave, or...”

It stands up straight again, and Roman has to look up to meet its eyes, as it's so tall the top of its head actually reaches his high ceiling; it must have been over ten feet tall.

“Are you afraid, Roman?” it asks, cocking its head to the side. “You said so yourself; you're dying. Does that scare you?”

If Roman had the strength to laugh he certainly would. He opens his mouth...but he can't get any words out, he's too weak. The being smiles and reaches up to tap at its head, and Roman quickly gets the idea.

_“No,”_ he thinks. _“To be honest with you, I've been waiting for this. I welcome it.”_

The creature hums and turns its head to look around the room at all of his awards and framed, signed playbills. When its eyes land on one of the old pictures of himself and his three partners, it sighs.

“Still,” it says, “you've lived a long fulfilling life.” It turns back to him and smiles once again. “It was an honor to watch over you, Roman.”

Roman ignores its praise and bitterly thinks, _“You say fulfilling, I say lonely.”_

The creature frowns. “Hm...well, it couldn't have been _that_ bad, right?”

Roman feels like his body is made of lead, and soon he would sink into the bed and disappear entirely. He was in no pain, but the feeling was certainly uncomfortable. _“I've accomplished as much in my life as I could, but it still wasn't enough,”_ he tells the creature. _“Who the hell cares about money or fame when...when you have no one to share it with?”_

The creature says nothing, it just reaches down to run its long fingers through his hair once again. It was comforting...but Roman was getting impatient.

_“Who are you?”_ he asks. _“If I'm dying, I'm assuming you've come to—”_

“I'm your Guardian,” it tells him. “My name is Emile. I've come to take you home.”

Home? But he was already...

“What is that phrase you humans use?” it asks in its cheery, whimsical voice. “Hmm...oh! _Home is where your heart is!_ So, where is your heart, dear Roman?”

The creature beams at him when Roman's eyes widen; his heart soaring as the realization suddenly hits him. Did it mean...were those three missing pieces from his aching heart really waiting for him, after all this time?

That day so many years ago, when the vision of Virgil had come before him (a vision Roman still wasn't sure he had actually seen at all), his youngest partner had begged him not to throw his life away. He promised that the three of them would wait as long as they had to, but they would be heartbroken if Roman left this world too soon. Roman had so much more to give than just his love for them, he had to hold on for as long as he could.

And that was precisely what Roman did, but now he was tired. Tired of waking up to an empty bed. Tired of eating dinner alone. Tired of his heart constantly bleeding from those three gouged out chunks, yearning for the ones that were torn from it far too early. Roman was _so damn tired_ , and no matter what was waiting for him, whether it was an eternity of loneliness or...or a reunion with his darlings, he couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer.

“Whenever you're ready, Roman,” Emile says gently as it offers its hand out towards him. “I'll be right beside you.”

With the last of his strength, Roman reaches a thin, shaky hand out towards the being. His eyes close, then fight to open so he could take one last look at his lonely room...and then close once more. He feels Emile tighten its hand around his own. He feels a freezing cold wind bite through him as he takes a breath in _(one, two, three, four...)_ , holds it _(one, two, three, four, five, six, seven...)_ , and breathes out _(one...two...three...)_.

* * *

When Roman opens his eyes, wincing as a bright light hits them, he's standing in a spacious office.

Wait, an office?

“Not what you expected, huh?”

Roman gasps as his eyes finally adjust and clearly take in the sight before him. It was the strange creature, Emile. It was sitting in a rolling chair behind a large (no, more like massive), wooden desk covered with...things? Roman actually had no idea what he was looking at. Strange, thin squares of light in various shades of gold sat in a clear plastic tray; a couple of them were spread out across the desk haphazardly, but they were actually glowing so bright that Roman had to tear his eyes away from them as he felt his head start to throb.

His looks back up to Emile...and feels a chill run up his spine as he finally sees what had been hiding between its feathers before. _Eyes._ Multiple eyes of all different colors and sizes were sitting among its feathers, twisting and turning in the their sockets. All but one at least, that was sitting near the bottom of Emile's left wing. That single eye was wide open and glowing with a bright white light, though its feathers would constantly shift and hide it away every couple of seconds. _Christ_ , there must have been at least fifty of the damn things. Roman was just glad none of the twisting eyes seemed to be paying him any mind.

“It's _he_ , by the way,” Emile says, causing Roman to jump as he's brought out of his disgust. “I'm not an _'it'_.”

Roman feels his cheeks heat up with shame as Emile leans forward to fold his hands and rest his elbows on the desk. He gives Roman an amused smile.

“I didn't want to correct you earlier,” he goes on, “and risk ruining such an important moment, but I thought I should let you know now. I prefer he.”

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry!” Roman says. “I just, well...you're not exactly—”

“Human?” Emile finishes for him. “That's true but...I don't know, I've just always liked the way it sounds! It fits me, don't you think?”

Roman gives him a shrug and says, “Fair enough. He/him it is.”

Emile beams at him and Roman isn't quite sure how that was supposed to make him feel. He was confused more than anything else, but Emile did have this loving, comforting aura around him that was naturally starting to calm Roman's nerves. He felt like he should be on guard in this...wherever the hell he was, but Emile's friendly demeanor was making that difficult.

“Please, have a seat!” Emile tells him as he gestures to the comfy looking chair sitting on the other side of his desk. “We have a lot to discuss and not much time to spare.”

Roman doesn't do as he asks right away. Instead, he turns around to take in the rest of the room in hopes to get a better understanding of where he was. He hears Emile sigh behind him, but the being says nothing more.

The room seemed fairly large to him, but it was probably just small enough to be cozy to something, _someone_ , as broad and towering as Emile. On the other side of the room was another desk exactly like Emile's, although this one seemed like it hadn’t been used in a very long time. It was completely clear aside from the thick layer of dust that was coating it. 

The walls of the room were a dark navy blue, and completely bare except for a long standing mirror close to Emile's desk. Then there was—

Wait.

He wasn't? What the hell was? How was he???

Emile chuckles and says, “I was wondering when you would notice.”

Roman rushes over to the mirror and stares slack jawed at his reflection. There was no paper thin, wrinkly skin; no white hair _(oh my god look how thick it is again!!!)_ ; no sunken in, dull eyes; no liver spots. What greeted him in the mirror was no longer a ninety-eight year old man, but someone so young they had to be in their mid twenties.

“Twenty-eight, to be exact,” Emile says quietly, resting his head in his hand as he watched Roman spin around in front of the mirror to check himself out.

He was wearing his old, long lost, red letterman jacket with a pair of dark jeans that made his ass look _fantastic_. His hair was perfectly swooped off to the side and his eyeliner was on point and _holy shit he looked amazing!_

“This was always one of my favorite parts,” Emile tells him, though Roman was barely listening. “Watching you rediscover yourselves after so long.”

“Why?” Roman mumbles, more to himself than Emile. “How? I-I don't...”

Emile hums and says, “Who's to say, really? Maybe your soul favored that period of your life, or maybe it just finds this body more convenient than the frail one you used to have. Does it really matter?”

Roman is able to strike a couple more poses before Emile finally has enough. He clears his throat and says, “Now, if you would just sit down, we could get things started.” 

There's a hint of annoyance to his tone, it's just intimidating enough to get Roman away from the mirror and into the chair he had been instructed to sit in. Emile gives him a satisfying nod and then looks down at the mess of light...things, scattered across his desk.

“Let's see...I just had it a few moments ago, so where did I..?”

As he trails off to start shuffling through the light sheets, Roman turns around in his chair and finishes his review of the office.

There were no windows. In fact, as Roman looks up to confirm this, even though the room was brightly lit, there didn't seem to be any source of light at all. Thinking about it too hard made his head spin, so Roman chose to ignore that mystery for now and turn his attention to the left and right sides of the room. Though it wasn't as if that gave him much comfort either, as both sides led down to identical, eerily dark corridors with no endings in sight. There didn't seem to be any other way to get in or out of the room.

“Ah, here we are!” Emile suddenly exclaims, making Roman jump out of his seat. “Roman Thomas Prince. Born June 4, 1991, on a Saturday at exactly 4:56 PM. Weighting 8.4 lbs. Goodness, you must have really given your mother a workout!”

Roman stared at him wide eyed. “Who- _what_ are you?”

Emile, who was currently talking in great detail about the hospital Roman was delivered in, paused, then sighed and shook his head.

“You humans and your labels,” he chuckled. “I understand why some of you take such comfort in them but, if you don't mind me saying, it just all feels so unnecessary.”

“But—”

“I already told you; I'm Emile, your Guardian. That's all.”

The strange being shuffled the file of light he was holding and then leaned back in his chair. “Think of me as...a secretary, of sorts,” he says, smiling a little.

Roman frowns. “They need secretaries in heaven?” he asks, and then crossed his arms with a glare as Emile started to laugh at him.

“Oh my goodness, well when you say it like that it does sound rather silly!” He opens his arms up and shrugs, as he says, “You know, filling out paperwork for the dead all day is tedious work but...it's a living!”

Roman stared at him completely dumbstruck. This was his guardian...angel, or whatever, yet he was sitting here cracking jokes? For heaven's sake, he just _died_ not ten minutes ago!

Emile's laughter trails off into a sigh until, quietly, he says, “The four of you bring out something so _human_ in me. It's...a nice feeling.”

Roman's heart suddenly starts to pound in his chest; it was pretty damn active, considering he was a dead man.

“Wait, did you just say—”

“You know,” Emile interrupts as he looks over Roman's file again, “it's pretty interesting that you think this is heaven.”

“Is it not?” Roman asks, temporarily distracted. “Or is this some kind of...weird, waiting room limbo?” Then he shakes his head quickly, and says, “Actually, never mind. You just said, 'the four of you.' Does that mean—”

“Hm...who can say?” Emile says, responding to the question Roman cared the least about at the moment.

Roman can feel his infamous temper start to rise. “I-I'm sure you can! You work here, so surely you should know what this place is?!”

Emile ignores him entirely now (and that only fuels the fire that was rising inside of Roman's chest) and said, “Your father was Philip Prince, and your mother was Isabella Rios. They died within a couple months of each other in...2055.” He sighs. “I'm sorry to hear that, I know that was hard for you to deal with.”

“What did you mean by 'the four of you?!'” Roman exclaims.

“Six siblings, oh, I almost forgot about that! You even have a brother and sister who are still alive!”

“Stop it! Tell me about—”

“You lived in New York the first three years of your life, and then moved to—”

Roman suddenly stands up so fast, his chair falls backwards onto the tiled floor with a _thud_.

“I want to see them,” he demands, through gritted teeth. 

Emile refuses to meet Roman's eyes. He looks down at his desk and says, “Roman, please. There's a system that I have to—

“ _Fuck_ your system!” he shouts. Emile doesn't flinch, but the look on his face still gave away his discomfort. “I've waited...for so long to see them again. Do you understand that?”

Emile finally looks up at him, and the smile on his face is so broken and full of pain, Roman can't help but feel sorry for him despite himself. “Yes,” he says. “I actually do.”

Roman closes his eyes and takes in a few deep breaths as he counts to ten, a trick Logan had taught him so many years ago. Gratefully, Emile waits for him to calm himself down.

“You asked me where my heart was,” Roman says, opening his eyes after a full minute had passed. “It's with them, Emile. My heart belongs to Virgil, Logan and Patton. It always has.” He doesn't bother to wipe at his eyes as the tears start to fall down his cheeks.

“I-I miss them so much,” Roman chokes out.

“I know you do,” Emile says. “Believe me, I know.”

“Then why don't you take me to them? Where are they?”

Emile gives him a heavy sigh and then gestures to the chair laying on the floor. Roman glares, but Emile just meets his gaze with his own tired smile. With a huff, Roman walks over to the chair and sets it upright, then plops down onto it. He crosses his arms as he waits for Emile to, _hopefully_ , give him some damn answers already.

Instead, Emile sits back in his chair and says, “You remind me of Remy.” He smiles, but Roman could swear he heard the Guardian's voice crack as he spoke.

“Who's Remy?” Roman asks, with the little amount of patience he had left.

“The Guardian that watched over you before me,” Emile answers. Then after a moment of hesitation, he adds, “...they were also Virgil's Guardian.”

Roman suddenly sits up in his chair at the mention of one of his boyfriends.

“Virgil's guardian?!”

Emile simply nods and Roman leans back once again. Bitterly, he asks, “Well then, may I speak to them? Just for a moment?” He chuckles darkly. “I'd like to make a complaint.”

Emile folds his hands together and says, “I know this is hard to believe, Roman, but Remy did all they could to save Virgil.”

“Did they?!” Roman snaps. “Did they really? Because it sure as hell doesn't look like it!”

To Roman's surprise and slight horror, Emile's eyes suddenly fill with thick, silvery tears. The Guardian's face doesn't contort into the ugly mess that usually came with crying, the tears just gracefully fall down his cheeks and plop onto the desk.

“Remy,” Emile says, voice just as clear as ever despite his crying, “risked everything to keep the four of you together. It cost them so much but, I...I...”

He looks down at the files spread across his desk and whispers, “I don't know what to do anymore. I wanted to follow all the rules this time; there's a process that I have to go through for each and every waiting soul in the _inbetween_ , no exceptions. But you...”

Roman stands up once again, and walks all the way up to Emile's desk. He places his hand over the Guardian's. Emile shoots his head up and gasps, though he doesn't pull away. He looks oddly beautiful, with such a human expression on his face and shimmering tears falling down his cheeks.

“Please,” Roman begs, “just take me to them. You know everything about me, right? So you know how much I've been suffering. And...maybe I deserved it. Maybe I could have saved Virgil if I had got to him faster. Maybe I could have saved Patton if I had kept searching for doctors even after he told me to stop. Maybe if I was stronger I could have carried both mine _and_ Logan's pain so he wouldn't have...”

He wipes at his eyes with his free hand and tightens the other around Emile's. Emile squeezes back.

“I've been alone for so long, Emile,” he says, in a hushed voice. “Isn't that punishment enough? Have I not earned the right to be with them after all I've been through?”

For several minutes, neither one of them said a word. Emile just stared at him with his strange, pale eyes, now free of tears, and Roman wonders just what he was searching for within his own ice blue ones.

Finally, Emile says, “You are...a very old soul, Roman Prince. You've accomplished quite a lot with your time in the human realm.”

Roman sighs. “As much as I love singing and acting, it's nothing compared to—”

“No. I don't just mean in this life,” he says, and Roman feels something strange stir deep inside him as he processes the meaning behind Emile's words.

“You've lived, many, many lives, Roman.”

Firmly, and without a hint of doubt, Roman says, “I had everything I could have wanted in this one. I had them.”

Roman keeps their gazes locked as Emile's eyes widen. Then after a moment, Emile laughs, almost in disbelief.

“I'm supposed to give you a choice,” he tells him.

Roman wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he still says, “I believe I've been pretty damn clear about what I want, Emile.”

“So you have,” the Guardian sighs.

Emile lets go of Roman's hand and picks up the file of light he had been reading just moments ago. With a sudden flick of his wrist, a sleek, silver pen appears between his fingers.

“Once you sign this, there's no going back,” he says, as he opens up the bright file and turns it around to face Roman. As Roman squints to look at it, he can just barely make out an X and a dotted line that followed it.

“Are you _absolutely sure_ you want this, Roman?”

Without a word, Roman takes the pen from Emile's hand and then quickly scratches his name in big, looping, cursive letters on the line.

Emile doesn't look the least bit surprised. He smiles as he takes the file back and snaps it shut. When he lets it go, the file floats itself gently down to sit on top of the other folders in the clear plastic tray.

“Well...I suppose _both_ of our fates have been sealed now,” Emile says, as he stands up from his desk.

“What do you mean?” Roman asks him, but Emile only shakes his head.

“Follow me,” he says, frustratingly brushing off yet another of Roman's questions. Then he walks off towards the dark hallway to the right.

Roman steels himself and then jogs after him, as each of Emile's steps were equal to about five of Roman's own. As they walk, it occurs to him that the light that was in the office is traveling with them, illuminating the corridor to reveal more white tiled floors and dark gray, empty walls. He looks up at Emile and realizes that the soft light was actually coming from him.

They walk in silence for what feels like a hour, until they finally reach a tall iron gate covered in twisting, dark green vines.

Roman looks up at Emile and sees that the Guardian is meeting his gaze halfway. He smiles, saying, “This is your stop, Roman. I'm afraid I won't be able to join you.”

Emile turns to look down the dark hallway with narrowed eyes, and mutters, “Not this time.”

Roman slowly looks behind him as well, though he can't make out a thing in that darkness; the office was far behind them. Although...maybe it was just his imagination, but it felt like something was watching them. Something that wasn't there a few seconds ago.

He shudders and turns back to Emile, who tears his own eyes away from the corridor shortly after.

Emile traces his fingers over the lock set in the middle of the gate, and says, “The four of you...you all have marvelous souls. So much hope and love overflowing out of each one...it was so nice to be in their presences.”

Before Roman can respond, a pure white light shoots out in a beam from the lock, and in an instant, the gate swings open.

Roman wasn't sure what he was expecting, but on the other side of the gate was a grassy path, surrounded by a cluster of towering trees; a cool breeze brushes against his face, it smelled faintly of rain. As simple as it was, the gentle presence inside felt so inviting he couldn't help but take a few steps towards it.

Emile laughs quietly and gestures his hand forward. “Go on,” he says, “this is what you wanted, right?”

Roman reluctantly turns back to Emile and says, “I...I don't know? Are they—”

“Yes,” Emile answers with a beaming smile. “They are. No matter how long, keep walking down that path until you reach your destination.”

Roman opens his mouth, but Emile presses his finger to it and shushes him. “Trust me, you'll know _exactly_ when you've made it.”

Roman takes Emile's hand and intertwines their fingers. “Thank you, Emile,” he tells him sincerely. “Thank you so much. I...I do apologize for being such a handful, but...”

Emile shakes his head and leans down to plant a kiss on Roman's cheek. “It was my—” he stops himself and then, almost painfully, says, “It was _our_ pleasure. You were amazing. We're both so proud of you.”

Roman doesn't get the chance to ask Emile to elaborate before he was being pushed past the open gate. He stumbles and spins around just as it starts to close.

“Will I ever see you again?” he calls out, to the Guardian.

“I hope so,” Emile says, as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Farewell, Roman Prince.”

Then the gate slams shut and Roman is left alone.

* * *

Emile was afraid.

He wasn't surprised at all when he felt the sudden surge of force emanating from his office, as he walked Roman Prince to the _beyond_ , but it still terrified him. 

He didn't dare take his time walking back, as much as he wanted to. He took long, brave strides down the hallway and tried to calm his pounding heart when the entity he knew was waiting for him finally came into view. The nameless, colossal mass of shadows and swirls of swarming, multicolored lights; it stared at him with dozens of wide, white eyes that constantly faded in and out of its form.

As Emile stood before them, he says in a steady voice, “I'm surprised you didn't take me in sooner.”

The nameless entity flashed a different color with each word it spoke. _“We were waiting for this one to die,”_ they said, sounding as if billions of different voices had all somehow blended together into something terrifyingly inhuman.

“Roman?” Emile asks, honestly confused. “But why? You never cared about any individual humans before so—”

_“Be silent,”_ they demanded, calmly.

Whether Emile wanted to or not, he shut his mouth tight and bit down on his tongue for good measure.

_“We were waiting,”_ they repeated, _“for this one to die. We wanted to see what you would do, Guardian Emile.”_

Emile swallows hard as the entity begins to glide back and forth across the small room, as if it was pacing. _“Would you do as you have sworn, and let this soul choose his fate on his own? Or would you whisper secrets that you had no right to share, and let them worm their way into his heart; twisting his fate how you saw fit?”_

Emile wanted to defend himself. He wanted to tell them that Roman _did_ choose this path on his own, and that his influence could have very well done nothing to change the human's mind. He wanted to ask who were they to decide which information a person can and can not have? But no matter how hard he tried, Emile couldn't find his words. The entity hadn't given them back to him yet.

_“We were watching, Guardian Emile, for a very long time. You have committed crimes that have directly upset the balance of these realms, and so you shall be rightfully judged.”_

The entity stops its pacing in front of Emile and leans in close, its eyes staring directly into his soul. 

_“Then, you will be punished,”_ they finish, and suddenly Emile feels his mouth given back to him.

“I-I understand,” he says, and the being seems to nod.

It glides back towards the middle of the room (and Emile takes in a deep breath as he's given some space) and then stands stock still. The colors inside its form buzz around quickly, and then slow down as they begin to speak again.

_“You let Guardian Remington stop the human Virgil Cullen from committing his scheduled suicide, seventy-eight years ago.”_

Oh...so he had been right after all. They really had seen everything.

_“For this crime, you have earned fifty years of atonement.”_

Emile holds his head high as it goes on.

_“You did not notify us as Guardian Remington continued to share confidential information with Virgil Cullen and Patton Foster. For this crime, you have earned another twenty years of atonement.”_

Twenty years for simply telling Patton that Virgil missed him. Seventy-five years for not attempting to stop Remy from bringing Virgil into the human world to save Roman. _Two hundred years_ for not giving Roman a choice, and taking him straight to the _beyond_.

In total, Emile had earned _365 years_ of the same horrors that Remy was surely still facing.

And despite all that, Emile still didn't find himself regretting any one of his choices. Remy was right, those humans had something special in them. It would have been a crime to _not_ do everything in his power to keep them together.

The nameless entity stays silent for a few moments and simply stares Emile down. Emile could feel his body trembling from sickening anticipation, but he remained still as well.

_“Roman Prince's soul,”_ they finally said, _“has been reborn two hundred and forty-eight times. You knew this, and yet you so easily let him go to the **beyond** , where he can no longer be reached. He would have made an exceptional Guardian in another fifty cycles or so.”_

Emile found enough courage to respond, “I don't believe he would have chosen that path, even if I had—”

_“If you and Guardian Remington had done as you were told, and let fate decide what to do with those four lives,”_ they said, voice still monotone but terrifying all the same, _“then he could have continued to grow. He could have been a great asset to the realms, Guardian Emile.”_

“Well, I guess now we'll never know what could have been,” Emile says with a smile, and then, “I'm ready to face my punishment.”

_“Very well,”_ they said. _“Guardian Emile, it is now time for us to...what is this?”_

Emile, who had been bracing himself, watched curiously as a single yellow light began to flash near the top of its form. Another light, this one green, started to flicker back. Though they said nothing out loud to Emile as the two lights seemingly spoke to one another.

_“That is...interesting,”_ they finally said, out loud for Emile to hear. _“Guardian Remington has just offered to take your punishments for themself.”_

Emile's heart starts to pulse rapidly as an ice cold wave of dread suddenly drenches him, stronger than any one of the rare feelings he had experienced in the past couple of decades. 

_“NO!!!”_ he screams, falling to his knees before the nameless thing. “No, you can't let them! Please, this is _my_ burden! You can't do this, you can't let Remy—”

_“Silence.”_

Emile feels his throat tighten and his screaming is suddenly cut off into a hoarse, pathetic wheezing. He sobs and clutches his hand to his heart.

_“We have been watching you, Guardian Emile and Guardian Remington,”_ and it's then that Emile realizes Remy could somehow hear all of this too; it was addressing them both. _“You are both quite...intriguing, but far too much trouble for your own good.”_

Emile feels the pressure on his throat give, but he still doesn't speak. All he can do now is listen...and silently plead.

_“We have existed and watched over these realms for longer than either of you could possibly imagine, yet we have never seen Guardians take this much interest in the lives of humans. We can not understand why you would so foolishly give Roman Prince away. We could not imagine that Guardian Remington would ask to take your penance; it is unheard of to willing take on such horrors for another.”_

The nameless bends down close to Emile again, and says, _“This is all very...new. We do not know what to think of it.”_

“Please,” Emile begs, barely able to take in all that it was saying. “Don't let them do this. I'll take everything you want to throw at me, just _please_ don't give this to Remy.”

_“Why?”_ they ask.

Emile stares into its swirling, bright eyes, and says, “Because...they're my everything. I don't want them to suffer anymore than they already have.”

_“You still experience love after all these years, Guardian Emile?”_ they ask, with genuine curiosity. _“We thought you would have forgotten by now.”_

Emile doesn't answer them.

The entity stretches back to its full height. _“Very well,”_ it says. _“We have made a decision. It will not be questioned. If you speak again, we will add to your punishments.”_

He nods, and then pulls himself back up to his feet.

_“Guardian Remington will not take on your penance,”_ it says, and Emile has to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from crying out in relief.

_“Because you, Guardian Emile, have been absolved of these charges.”_

Emile's hand falls from his face as he stares at the entity in utter shock.

The lights in its body start to spin around faster as it speaks. _“We do not understand why the two of you have done such things, and though this has been admittedly fascinating to witness, we do not want to see a repeat of it again.”_

The entire room is suddenly smothered with a heavy blanket of darkness, and Emile can't help but wrap his wings around himself for protection against it. As quickly as it came, it was gone. The room slowly started to light up again, and the nameless entity had vanished...but they left something in their place.

_“You are being given a merciful gift, Guardians,”_ its voice suddenly echoes around the room. _“Do not waste it.”_

Emile slowly walks towards the winged being that was now lying in the middle of the office floor. He falls to his knees and draws them up in his arms. After a few moments, bright green eyes blink open and stare up at him. Then came the smirk.

“Hi,” Remy says, their voice barely a whisper.

“Hello again,” Emile smiles.

Remy reaches up a bruised and bloodied hand to wipe Emile's tears away. “Is this the part where you tell me not to do anything this stupid again?” they ask.

Emile leans down and kisses them instead.

* * *

How long had he been walking? Days? Weeks? Or had it only been a few hours?

No matter how long Roman walked down the beaten path, he never slowed down. He never felt tired or hungry, that blazing determination never died down within him. There had been several points when the path had split off into multiple directions, but even then he felt no fear as he quickly decided which ones to turn down. He just knew. Something deep inside of him knew exactly where to go.

When the trees finally opened up to a cloudy, light gray sky, and when he felt the faintest drizzle of cool rain hit his skin, Roman knew he was almost there.

Not too far off into the distance, as he walked down the path, he sees a large, three story house; painted a pale green, with a white trim and a gray roof. He hears a dog start to bark excitedly, and the sound only gets louder and louder by the second until before he knows it, a golden retriever was bounding towards him.

Roman stops and bends down to greet the dog, who wags its tail back and forth happily as it jumps up to lick his face. He had never seen this dog before in his life, but it was greeting him like an old friend.

“Aw, cut it out!” he cried, though he couldn't stop laughing as the dog nuzzled its head under his chin. “Alright, alright, calm down! You've got to let me up!”

The dog didn't seem too keen on listening to him, as it only let out a bark and then lapped at his cheek again.

_“Buuuttercuuup!”_

The golden retriever suddenly stops its playful attack on Roman as it hears its name being called, and then makes a mad dash towards the house. For a moment, Roman can't get his brain to cooperate with his body so he could move, because that voice...

That sweet, joyful voice...

“Buttercup, where did you go, girl?” Roman hears again, coming from further up ahead. “What did you find? Something good?”

Roman finally forces himself to stand and takes a slow step forward. Then another, and another. The closer he gets, the more the source of the voice comes into view.

Then he's running.

“What's wrong, girl? Why are...you...”

Standing next to the dog, staring straight ahead at the path that Roman was currently sprinting down, was Patton.

Patton, with a full head of graying, light brown hair. Patton, with his wide, soulful, chocolate brown eyes. Patton, who didn't look a day over forty. Not sick. Not so weak he was practically falling apart. Just...Patton. _His_ Patton.

Patton falls to his knees as tears well up in his eyes. He stretches a shaky hand out just as Roman finally, _finally_ , reaches him. Roman takes that hand, pulls Patton back up to his feet in one tug, and then holds him to his chest as tight as he possibly could.

Patton lets out a shrill sob and wraps his arms around Roman's neck, crying out, “It's you! It's r-really you! I w-was so s-scared! I-I-I thought we w-wouldn't—”

“Shh, my darling, I'm here now,” Roman hushes, holding the back of Patton's head close to his chest. “I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, Patton. I'm right here, I'm...”

Roman pulls away to look into Patton's teary eyes and beams at him as he says, _“I'm home.”_

Patton takes Roman's face into his hands and kisses him hard. There isn't a hint of hesitation as Roman lifts him off the ground and kisses him back tenfold.

They're so caught up in each other, they don't notice that someone had just come around from the side of the house and was currently staring at them in disbelief.

“Roman?”

Roman gently pulls away from Patton (who just buries his face in Roman's neck and starts kissing that part of him instead) and looks towards the one who called his name.

It was Logan. Besides the absence of dark circles and the numb, tired expression Roman had unfortunately got used to seeing on him so long ago, Logan looked just as he did before he died.

“Roman,” he says again, this time with more confidence.

Roman carefully sets Patton down, kisses him on the forehead, and then walks towards Logan. Logan meets him halfway, and the two stop when they're just a few feet apart. It becomes clear after only a couple of seconds, that neither one of them had any idea on what to say. So much _needed_ to be said but...where to start?

Patton comes up behind Logan and gives him a gentle push forward. Logan looks back with a frown, but it falls from his face when Patton smiles at him and says, “Go on. You can do it.”

With a deep sigh, Logan turns back around to face Roman. He clears his throat awkwardly and then says, “Roman, I...I've thought a lot about what I would say to you when, no, _if_ we ever saw each other again. And I—”

“I'm sure you have,” Roman cuts him off darkly. “You certainly had plenty of time to think, right?”

Logan reaches up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit. “I...yes. I suppose I have. Roman, there's much I want to discuss with you, but first I need to—”

“I just want to know, what more could I have done, Logan?”

Logan's eyes widen as Roman takes a step into his space, though he makes no attempt to move away from him. They don't notice Patton glance back and forth between them, and then turn to look towards the porch at...something, with a worried expression on his face.

“Roman, if you would just—”

“I was hurting too!” Roman snaps, his voice rising with every word. “I was struggling just as hard to keep myself together! To keep _us_ together! So why—”

_“I don't know, damn it!”_ Logan suddenly shouts, and Roman can't help but take a step back away from him, as much as he wants to stand his ground. “I don't know what to tell you! I don't know what you want to hear! I've had forty-eight years to try and find an answer for you but _I just. Don't. Know._ ”

There's a beat of silence as Logan pants and attempts to calm down. Roman counts exactly ten seconds before he speaks again.

“The only thing I have for you...is an apology. I am sorry, Roman. I am truly sorry for leaving you behind. I...” he reaches up under his glasses to wipe at his eyes. “I can't begin to imagine what you must have been through all on your own”

“No,” Roman says numbly. “No, you really can't.”

Logan takes a step back and then raises his head up high, and Roman can tell right away that Logan's trying to steel himself in hopes that his own words don't hurt him.

“I know you can never forgive me,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Next to them, Patton whispers, “Oh, Logan. Honey...”

Logan starts to go on. “I know that you hate me, and although it...hurts, I can understand why. I know you must—”

“ _Hate_ you?” Roman says, completely taken aback. “Hate you, I— Logan, you're supposed to be the smart one!”

Logan just stares at him, frozen. His mouth still open in mid sentence.

“How the hell can you say that I hate you?!”

Logan looks genuinely confused, as he says, “How could you not? After all I've done to you, surely you—”

Roman grabs Logan's hands and brings them up to his chest. “Would you hate me, or Patton, or—”

“No,” Logan tells him sternly. “I could never.”

“I...I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully forgive you, Logan. What you did...it hurt me _so fucking bad_. I-I don't have the words to describe the pain I went through, with all of you gone.”

Logan tries to tug his hands free as his eyes start to water but Roman holds him still, and leans forward to rest his forehead against his.

“But even so,” he goes on, “ _I love you_ , darling. That hasn't changed, and it never will.”

Logan opens his mouth to speak and as he does, the tears finally start to fall. Whatever he was going to say before is quickly forgotten as he starts to rapidly blink, muttering, “Damn it, crying is so messy. It's highly inconvenient.”

Roman just smiles and leans in to kiss those inconvenient tears away.

“So...do I get a mushy ass reunion thing too?”

Roman freezes as that deep, husky voice, a voice that he hasn't heard in so long, calls out from behind him.

He lets Logan's hands slide free, and Logan shakes his head with a small smile, saying, “Over seventy years apart and _that's_ the first thing you say to him? Really, Virgil?”

Roman spins around so fast he practically gives himself whiplash. His eyes are instantly filling with tears when he sees a man, who looks about the same age as the form he was currently in, standing on the porch and leaning against the railings.

Giving him a lazy salute, Virgil says, “Long time no see, Princey.”

Roman runs towards the porch steps, but Virgil is even faster; he suddenly leaps up from his spot and races across the deck. He doesn't bother to walk down the stairs, but instead _jumps_ from the top step and directly into Roman's awaiting arms.

Virgil wraps his long legs around Roman's waist and holds his face between his hands to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. Again, and again, and again.

Roman tried to tell him how much he missed him. Tried to say how he was still just as beautiful as he remembered. Tried to say everything he wished he could have said all those years ago, back when they were all alive and happy and everything was just _good_ , but he can't. The overwhelming amount of love Virgil was suddenly thrusting onto him brings Roman to his knees, and all he can do is hold on to his beloved for dear life and _weep_.

He feels Patton's gentle hands run through his curly hair. He hears Logan's hushed words of reassurance, as he rubbed his back. He sees, right in front of him, the real Virgil Cullen; with his dark, stormy eyes and his dimpled grin and his freckles and—

“God, I've missed you all so much,” Roman sobs, though he smiles brightly as he looks between them.

“We've missed you too, sweetheart,” Patton assures him, as he wipes the tears off his cheeks.

“So very much,” Logan says, and then picks up Roman's hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

Virgil pulls him in for another deep kiss, and after they break apart he simply says, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Roman beams. “I love _all_ of you.”

“We've got a hell of a lot of catchin' up to do,” Virgil says, climbing off of Roman and then offering out his hand to help him up. “Emile told me you wrote a freaking book? Seriously?”

“Actually, I wrote _three_ books,” Roman says, puffing out his chest with pride.

“I never expected you, of all people, would write a book,” Logan says. He tries to bite back his smirk when Roman puts a hand to his chest and dramatically gasps.

“Excuse me?! Why are you acting so surprised?!”

“I mean, if my memory serves me right, and it _always_ does...”

Roman rolls his eyes and groans. Patton and Virgil give each other a knowing smile.

“I was the first one you would turn to when you would fall behind on your English assignments. Which was often, by the way.”

“That was in college! I've had plenty of time to improve my writing skills since then!”

“I guess we'll see about that, won't we?” Logan hums, as he walks up the porch steps to the front door of the house.

“We have plenty of time now!” Patton exclaims, bounding up the steps after Logan with Buttercup trotting behind him. “I mean, we do have forever!”

Roman feels Virgil slip his hand into his own and then squeeze gently. Roman squeezes back without hesitation. 

“You know,” Virgil whispers, as the two of them watch Patton slip his arms around Logan's waist and stand up on his tiptoes, wordlessly asking for a kiss that Logan gladly gives him. “You're stuck with us now. There's no going back from this.”

Virgil reaches over to take his other hand, then wraps Roman's arms around his waist as if to further prove his point.

“You sure you're not gonna regret your choice like, ten years from now?” he asks. Though he uses the same, teasing tone of voice he always had, Roman knows there was real fear behind Virgil's words.

Roman pulls Virgil closer, leans in until their lips are brushing, and then whispers, “I'm positive. There isn't anywhere else I would rather be than here with you.”

_“Home is where your heart is! So, where is your heart, dear Roman?”_

It was here. It was right here, with these three, absolutely incredible people.

Virgil smiles and reaches up to grab the back of Roman's neck to bring him in for another kiss. They take their time, just slowly swaying in that spot and drinking each other in, until Patton pokes his head out from the front door and calls them both inside. Any minute now the rain would pick up, and they wouldn't want to get drenched out there, would they?

Taking his hand, Virgil pulls a willing Roman along; up the steps and into the comfort of their shared home.

The door closes with a gentle click, and with that, the years of arduous suffering are shut out far behind them.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Not really sure where this story came from, it just popped into my head one day and wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it out.
> 
> I’ve kinda had the headcanon that Remy was genderfluid for a while now, so I decided to play with that in this fic. Thus why I used they/them for them(him). I don’t think gender really matters much to Guardians at all, but like Emile said, certain pronouns just seem to fit nicer than others.
> 
> Speaking of Emile, I’m a bit worried that he was way too OOC. I tried to write him literally like a fusion of Patton and Logan; wants to play by the rules but feelings just like to creep in and get in the way of that. Ah well, hopefully it all turned out alright, because I’m actually pretty damn proud of this piece.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought about it!
> 
> **Tumblr:** [@PrinceofDespair](https://princeofdespair.tumblr.com/)


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